Saving Grace

by Carolyn Davidson

  He felt a stirring within himself he did not welcome, for he would not frighten her, and yet his body responded, as though she were sent to him in some way. And wasn’t that a foolish thought, for who would have known he was traveling the town road today, and how could the girl have chanced to be in need of rescue? Yet the thought nagged at him, his mother’s words repeating themselves over in his mind.

  “It’s time for you to be finding a wife and having a family of your own, Simon. I’m praying that God will send you the right woman.”

  She’d ended her last letter to him with those words, and he grinned as he thought of what his mother would say now, should she see him with this young woman clutching his belt as she rode behind him this morning.

  He made an effort then to clear his thoughts as they rode silently, his horse moving at a rolling canter as they approached the homestead where the Blackwoods lived. A small farmhouse lay at the end of a long lane, with a barn and chicken coop behind it and a garden nestled beside the house.

  “We’re here, Grace.” Simon’s words were quiet, his horse slowing as they approached the back of the house where a hitching post offered a place to tie his horse.

  He felt her weight slide from behind him and he reached to grasp her waist with one long arm, guiding her to the ground, lest she fall. Then, with a quick movement, he dismounted and tied his gelding to the metal ring provided for the purpose.

  Grace stood beside him, trying in vain to smooth the fabric of her dress, reaching to touch the bruising on her face, which was fast becoming more painful. She lifted her fingers, feeling a welt that circled one eye and swelling on her jaw. Her mouth, too, had swollen in a startling manner.

  “Well, hello there, Pastor Grafton,” the kindly farmer who had come to the door said. “Looks like you’ve got a problem here. Have you been set upon by a gang of ruffians, miss?” He stepped closer to the pair who stood on his porch. His face showed concern as he looked into Grace’s battered features.

  “One ruffian, and a nasty one at that,” Simon said. “He assaulted Miss Benson. I came upon them by the side of the road and I’m afraid I lost my temper and put a bullet in the man’s shoulder. He rode off and I felt Miss Benson would do well to come along with me this morning. I hope you don’t mind having an extra visitor.”

  “Come in. Come in,” Mr. Blackwood said, holding the screen door wide to allow them to walk into the kitchen. “The missus is having a cup of tea, ma’am. Perhaps you’d like to join her.”

  “That would be most welcome.”

  Grace sat down at the table, her gaze on the woman who watched her with concern. Her right arm in a sling, her face careworn, Mrs. Blackwood still managed a smile of welcome as she approached Grace.

  “Harold, get the girl a warm cloth to wipe her face with,” Mrs. Blackwood told her husband, and then reached for Grace’s hand. She watched as her husband did as instructed, keeping an eagle eye on Grace as she wiped at her face, wincing as the cloth touched the torn flesh.

  “I’ll give you one of my old dresses and you can change out of that ripped one you’re wearing,” Mrs. Blackwood said, rising and motioning Grace to follow her. They went into a bedroom just down the hall and Mrs. Blackwood reached into her wardrobe and pulled forth a gray cotton dress that had seen better days.

  “Don’t worry about bringing this back to me. I haven’t worn it in quite a spell and I won’t miss it,” the kindly lady said, and Grace thanked her, stripping from her own torn dress and donning the one offered in its stead.

  “You look like you could use a bit of comfort, girl,” she said, reaching with her good left arm to pat at Grace’s shoulder as they returned to the kitchen.

  “Here, Harold,” Mrs. Blackwood said to her husband. “Pour some of that hot water into the teapot, why don’t you, and I’ll add some more tea leaves. Should have a cup brewing in no time at all.” Within minutes the tea was poured and Grace was sipping awkwardly at the hot drink, lifting the cup to her mouth. It indeed appeared to be nourishing, for she began speaking to the lady of the house in an undertone, telling Mrs. Blackwood of her trying circumstances.

  “Dear girl, don’t you worry a bit,” that lady said, concern for the younger woman apparent in her eyes and the tender smile she offered.

  “I came to see how you were doing, Mrs. Blackwood,” Simon said. “The ladies from church said they’d sent some stew and fresh bread out the other day. Is there anything else you can think of that they can do for you? Perhaps a cake or a nice roast for your dinner tomorrow? If you’re needing anything from the general store just give me a list and I’ll tend to it.”

  His offer was met with an outstretched hand from Harold and a genuine word of thanks from his wife. “Folks have been right good to us,” Harold said, waving at an array of dishes on the kitchen dresser. “We’ve emptied all of those already, but a nice roast would tide us over well for a couple of days.”

  “I’d thought to leave Grace here with you folks for a day or so, but I’ve been thinking it over,” Simon said slowly. “Perhaps she would be safer in town, close to the sheriff and where I can keep a good eye on her. How about it, Grace? I have a housekeeper living in the parsonage, so you’d have another woman in the house and that should stave off any gossip about you being there.”

  “I’ll do whatever you decide is best,” Grace said quietly, her hands clasping together, her eyes falling to the floor. “I wouldn’t want Kenny to come here thinking I was on the premises. He’s a dangerous man. And I wouldn’t want to cause any problems for these folks.”

  Harold spoke up then. “I think you’re right, Preacher. The girl would be welcome here, but the safer place for her and for us, too, might be if she went to town with you. There’s folks all around and she could get help in a hurry if she needed it.”

  “I think that’s decided, then, Grace. We’ll leave these folks for now, as soon as I speak with Ellie for a moment, and I’ll take you home with me.”

  Grace walked out onto the porch after offering her goodbyes to the couple and Harold followed her there. “The preacher will take good care of you, girl. He’s got a fine lady for a housekeeper and you’ll be safe with him.”

  “I’ll do whatever he thinks best, sir,” Grace said softly.

  Behind them the door opened and Simon stepped out onto the porch. “We’ll be on our way, Harold. I’ll bring back the things Ellie needs from the general store one day this week. Probably the day after tomorrow, if that’s all right. For now, I’ll take Grace home with me and get her settled in.”

  Harold reached for Simon’s hand and shook it, his smile wide as he heard Simon’s words. The horse waited patiently at the hitching rail, and Simon went to him, Grace behind him. He mounted and then took her by the waist, lifting her to sit across his lap.

  “This might be more comfortable for you, I think,” he said to her, watching as she arranged her skirts to cover her legs. Harold grinned at them, waving a farewell as he went back into the house, neither of the men aware of the silent rider slouched over his saddle horn as he watched from the edge of the woods.

  Simon held Grace with care as the horse set off down the lane to the town road. He did not want to alarm her by his grip on her body. Grace. What an apt name for a lovely young woman, he mused. Even given the bruises she wore, he had caught a glimpse of the gentle lines of her face, her clear skin where it was visible and the stunning blue of her eyes.

  “I hope your housekeeper won’t mind that I’m invading her territory,” Grace said, shifting to look up at Simon.

  He smiled at her, his heart strangely warmed by the woman he held in his arms. He’d not been this close to a female in three years, not since his arrival in town as the new minister, and yet it seemed like a natural thing to hold her thusly, her head against his shoulder, her body close to his.

  “Mrs. Anderson will be happy to have the company, I’m sure. Keeping house for me is her job, but she’s also a friend of mine, and I’m sure you’ll like her.”
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  The ride back to town was accomplished in short order and Simon quietly pointed out the various places Grace might be interested in as they passed by the business establishments on the main street. The parsonage sat next to the small church and he directed the horse around the yard and to the back door before he lifted Grace from his lap and lowered her to stand on the ground.

  She brushed down her dress and watched as he dismounted and tied his mount to a handy post there. The door opened and a lady stood within the kitchen, a frown furrowing her brow as she eyed the girl before her.

  “Ethel, this is Grace. She’ll be with us for a bit. She’s had some trouble befall her this morning. A man from her uncle’s ranch chased her down and was giving her a bad time when I rode up and saw them. I stopped in at Harold and Ellie’s place for a bit and then brought Grace home with me.”

  “Well, you come right in here where it’s comfortable, girl. Let me take a look at you and see what we can do about your face.”

  Chapter Two

  Grace looked at Simon and he smiled at her encouragingly, ushering her into the kitchen. Pulling a chair from the round, oak table, he offered her a seat and she settled down to await Ethel’s ministrations.

  She looked around the comfortable kitchen, to the stove where a kettle full of some concoction simmered, with an aroma she could barely resist. “What are you cooking?” she asked Ethel.

  “Just some soup for dinner. I’ll bet you’re hungry, Grace. We’ll put an extra bowl on the table for you. I always cook plenty so there’s leftovers. The reverend here comes in at odd hours sometimes and it pays to have soup ready for him.”

  “Is the guest room ready for a visitor, Ethel?” Simon asked quietly.

  Ethel nodded. “I put clean sheets in there when the bishop left last week. It’s all ready for company.”

  “I’ll show Grace where it is, then, and get her settled before dinner. She’ll probably want to wash up a bit and see to her cut lip.”

  “I’ll come up with the box of bandages and salves,” Ethel offered.

  Simon cast her a look of appreciation as he led Grace from the kitchen, through the hallway and up the open stairway. She followed, her hand on his arm as they climbed the stairs and passed by two closed doors before he opened the third and stood back for her to walk into the room.

  It was large and sunny, with white lace curtains and colorful braided rugs on the floor. A patchwork quilt covered the bed and fat pillows leaned against the headboard.

  “This is lovely,” Grace said, standing in the middle of the room and looking around at the furniture it held. A wide dresser with mirror attached stood between the windows and a screen shielded one corner of the room from view.

  “There’s a commode back there with a pitcher and a bowl handy for you to use. I’ll take the pitcher down and fill it with warm water from the stove for you and give you a few minutes to wash up and tend to your bruises. Ethel will be up here before you know it, anyway,” Simon said, stepping behind the screen and reappearing in seconds with the blue-flowered pitcher.

  He left the room and Grace took a look at the private place provided. A cabinet held a covered jar for nighttime use and there were towels and wash-cloths on a shelf. She found it hard to believe that she’d been given so nice a place to stay, but then realized that the parsonage must be well equipped for company.

  The bedroom door opened again and Ethel came in, a shoe box in one hand, the pitcher of water in the other. Grace walked to where she stood near the bed.

  “Why don’t you sit down here and let me take a look at you. I’ll get the towel and washcloth and you just rest a minute,” Ethel said, bending to inspect Grace’s face. She tutted over the bruising around the girl’s eye, exclaimed loudly as she noted the cuts on her lip and the blood that seeped from her cheek.

  “That rascal needs to be horsewhipped, treating a lady this way,” Ethel said, her anger at the absent Kenny spoken loudly.

  “He’s not a nice man. But my uncle thinks he’s a good worker and apparently that’s all that counts with him,” Grace said quietly, lifting her face for Ethel’s inspection.

  A jar of salve was brought forth from the box and once Ethel had washed the blood from Grace’s skin, she set about soothing the sore places with her supply of ointments. In ten minutes, she had washed and cleaned all the sore spots, put a bit of sticky plaster on one cut that required it and then stepped back to look at her work.

  “I think we’ve done all we can for right now, Grace. You may have to let the doctor take a look at you, but I think just a bit of salve every day for a week should solve most of your problems. I’m sure you’ll have a black eye, but there doesn’t seem to be any lasting damage.”

  “I can’t thank you enough, Ethel. I appreciate all you and the preacher are doing for me. I didn’t expect to be in such a fine house with people to care about me.”

  “Well, our Simon is a good man and he’ll be sure you’re safe here. I’ll guarantee it, for I keep a shotgun in the pantry and I know how to use it if need be,” Ethel said stoutly.

  Grace lifted herself from her seat on the bed. “I need to wash my hands and arms before I eat any soup,” she said, heading for the corner where the warm water and bowl awaited her. Ethel nodded and gathered up her supplies in the box, then went to the bedroom door.

  “You come on down when you’re ready, girl. Soup’s ready to eat, so I’ll give you ten minutes or so to finish up here.”

  Grace nodded and bent to the washbasin provided for her, splashing water on her hands and using another clean cloth to wash her arms. She was skinned in several places, but otherwise found no need for worry. Wiping her arms carefully with the towel provided, she dried her hands and then went to the dresser to take a look at her face.

  Ethel had done a good job of cleaning her up, she decided, eyeing the skin that was bruised and the cuts that would take time to heal. Straightening her borrowed clothing as best she could, she left the room and went down the stairs to the sound of voices in the kitchen.

  Simon sat at the table, rising when Grace came in the door. “Have a seat, won’t you, Grace?” he asked, pulling out the same chair she’d occupied earlier.

  She did as he said and watched as Ethel filled the bowls from the big kettle on the stove. The soup steamed and sent forth a scent of chicken broth, making Grace’s mouth water, for she hadn’t eaten yet today. She waited until Ethel sat down and lifted her napkin to spread it over her lap.

  Simon bent his head and Grace was quick to do the same, as Ethel folded her hands and awaited Simon’s words of prayer over the food. Another welcome idea for Grace, for she hadn’t heard grace spoken over a meal since her parents’ deaths a year ago. It warmed her heart that this household should be so like the home she’d lived in for her youth and childhood.

  “Eat hearty now, Grace,” Simon said with a smile. “My Ethel is a good cook, as you’ll find out.”

  “The soup is wonderful,” Grace said, savoring her first bite of chicken and noodles.

  “We’ll have you looking hale and hearty in no time,” Ethel said, passing a plate of bread to the girl across the table. A plate with a round of butter on it was before her, and a bowl of jam beside it tempted her to use both on her bread. Grace could not believe her good fortune, when just a few hours ago she’d feared she might die at the hands of Kenny Summers.

  “I can’t tell you how thankful I am for all the two of you are doing for me,” she said, her hands busy with the knife as she buttered her bread.

  “We’ll keep you safe until the sheriff can take care of the man who hurt you,” Simon said. “I’ll go and see him as soon as we’re done eating and let him know what’s happened.”

  “Will he need to talk to me?” Grace asked.

  “I’m sure he will, but he’s a good fellow. Perhaps he’ll come by this afternoon and hear what you have to say. I’ll tell him what happened but he’ll no doubt want to speak with you, too.”

  Grace nodded in
agreement, and lifted her spoon again.

  Simon left after his dinner and untied his horse from the post by the back door, mounting and heading for the sheriff’s office. When he got there, he tied his gelding to the rail before the jailhouse and mounted the step, opening the door and calling out to the lawman who sat at his desk.

  Charlie Wilson was a man of middle age and few words. He responded to Simon’s greeting with an outstretched hand and a nod, then uttered the pleasantries.

  “Hello there, Reverend. This is a surprise. What can I do for you?”

  Simon nodded. “A surprise visit for me, also, but I come with news that will not be to your liking, I fear. I’m upset at it myself, and decided you needed to be aware of happenings.” Charlie sat down, leaning back in his chair, his feet propped on the corner of his desk, and waved at a second seat before the desk. Simon sat quickly, sorting through the words he had chosen with which to speak his piece.

  “I need to let you know that there was an altercation outside town today, Sheriff. I was riding out to visit with parishioners and came upon a man abusing a young woman by the side of the road. He had bloodied her face and as I neared, he hit her in the side of the head with his closed fist. The fact is…I shot him.”

  Charlie’s feet hit the floor with a thud and he stood, leaning over his desk. “You killed the fella? I haven’t heard of any such thing, Preacher. There’s been no talk around town, at least.”

  “No, sir. I only shot him in the shoulder, but he got on his horse and rode off. He’s a man named Kenny Summers, and I understand he works for a fella called Joe Cumberland.”

  “I know Joe. He’s a good man. A bit hardheaded and cranky, but an honest citizen. Can’t figure out why he’d have hired on a man with a temper like that.” He looked squarely into Simon’s eyes and asked the question that logically came next.

  “Who was the woman? Somebody from town?”